A Squintern A Day
by brennansboys
Summary: Bonesology 2016 Hiatus Challenge #1. Pick a minor character and portray a day in their life that shows us a behind the scenes day with our heroes. As the title suggests, I'll be posting a one shot a day - each focusing on a different squintern - for the next 12 days.
1. Daisy

**My very first Bonesology Hiatus Challenge... I hope you enjoy. :)**

As I push little Lance's stroller through Hanover Park, he babbles nonsensical things, bringing a smile to my face. He's getting so big, is my baby boy, and I don't think it will be too much longer before he utters his first word. He seems to get closer and closer every day, but the competitive side of me has to admit that I would love him to get there already, to speak before all of his friends at daycare. Not that I'm pressuring him, of course, I'll love him whatever… it's just that both Lance and I are extremely intelligent – brilliant, as Dr. Brennan would say – and it's logical that our little prodigy be more advanced than his peers. Speaking of Dr. Brennan, as Lance and I meander through the swarms of overexcited children enjoying the nice weather, the sun beating down on their backs, I spot her, Booth, Christine and the new baby already sitting on the bench where we'd agreed to meet. I take my steps double-speed, slightly humiliated that even with two children they managed to arrive earlier than me. I still get flustered when I let Dr. Brennan down even though we're good friends now (having become significantly closer since Lance's death), but I plaster on what I hope is a relaxed, happy expression as I reach the family of four.

"Daisy!" Brennan exclaims, looking up from their newborn in his stroller. She stands and wraps her arms around me in a warm hug, which I eagerly reciprocate. My heart still skips a beat when she hugs me sometimes; the fact that the anthropologist I'd long admired likes me personally _and_ respects my professional opinion will always feel a little surreal. "How are you?"

"We're both doing well," I reply, speaking for my son. "But what about you? How's the new baby?"

"He's great, isn't he, Booth?" She glances over her shoulder at her husband and I inwardly gush at the sweet smiles they share. I love how in love they are. It's so wonderful to see two people who are quite clearly soulmates get to live their lives together, especially after their journey to get to this point had been so long and arduous.

"He really is. I would get up, but-." He gestures to his daughter in his lap. Christine shows no intention of moving. "This little monster has me stuck."

"Don't worry about it, Agent Booth," I reassure him, then kneel in front of their five year old. "Hi there, Christine. How are you?"

She peeks up at me and swiftly diverts her gaze. The mini-Booth has been uncertain around me ever since Lance died. I know it's because she never saw me without him present and she learnt of his death the day the three of us were supposed to go to the park together. Lance would say I remind her of feelings she's too young to understand and deal with, but still. I find it quite upsetting. She gets along perfectly fine with Dr. Brennan's other interns. I often see pictures of her with Arastoo or Wendell posted online, big smiles on their faces. I know I shouldn't care; she is only five years old after all, yet I do. Immensely so. She's half of Dr. Brennan, right? So it still counts as my mentor disapproving of me and that fact alone causes pain to shoot through my body.

"Christine, sweetheart, say hello," Booth murmurs encouragingly. "You remember Daisy, right? Say hi to Daisy."

"Hi," their daughter says begrudgingly, her voice almost a whisper.

I smile at her gleefully. "I like your top, Christine. It's very pretty."

"Thank you."

"She's just shy," Booth explains, cuddling her close and peppering kisses to her crown. "Do you wanna meet our little guy?"

My lips curl up into an even bigger smile. Of course I do. This is the moment I've been waiting for since I found out Dr. Brennan had given birth. I don't even know his name yet; they wanted to keep it secret until our schedules finally aligned and I could meet the youngest Booth. _Calm down, Daisy. Be normal,_ I tell myself. "Yes," I respond eventually, trying my hardest to keep my tone even.

I watch, entranced, as my mentor gently lifts the slumbering baby boy out of his stroller and cradles him protectively. I squeeze myself onto the bench next to Booth and accept the precious cargo. My grin broadens as he yawns and snuggles into my arms, reminding me of my own son just a few months earlier. "He's _adorable_ ," I declare, cooing at his sweet little face. "Will I ever know his name?"

Booth and Brennan exchange meaningful looks and the former lightly strokes his son's cheeks. "Hank Booth," he says softly.

Brennan's correction arrives immediately. "Henry Booth – Hank for short."

I giggle as Booth playfully narrows his eyes at his wife. "Is the distinction important, Bones?"

"Yes. It's always important to be accurate," she chastises and I nod my agreement.

"Dr. Brennan is right."

"She's always right," he mutters under his breath. His eyes still twinkle when he looks at her though, so I figure he can't be _that_ annoyed. It's the truth that the anthropologist is correct about most, if not all things. Although I _am_ a little in love with her, so I might be bias.

"You two make very beautiful children," I comment, pulling their attention away from each other and to Christine and Hank.

"We strongly agree."

"We certainly do." Beside me, Booth bounces Christine up and down on his lap. "Want to go and play, Princess?"

"Yeah!" Her energy suddenly revitalised, she hops off her father's knee and races toward the large slide in the children's playground. Booth jumps up too, kissing Brennan chastely before he leaves.

"Sorry about that," Brennan says to me, her voice distracted as she stares intently at her husband as her follows their daughter.

"About what?"

"Booth and I kissing in front of you." Her cheeks pink. "We don't normally do that."

I wave her off nonchalantly. "Engaging in PDA is normal, Dr. B, especially after you just had a baby. It shows how much you love each other."

"We do love each other a significant amount," she muses, her eyes focused on something – or, more appropriately, some _people_ – in the distance. I let my gaze follow hers and find Christine perched at the top of the slide, Booth waiting for her, arms outstretched, at the bottom. She pushes herself off, sliding gaily towards her father, who catches her and lifts her high into the air. The little girl is beaming and I can imagine her excited squeals to do it again as the FBI agent lowers her to the floor and she scrambles up the ladder. I feel Dr. Brennan's eyes on me so I refocus on her. She hesitates before she apologises for a second time.

"OK, now I'm really confused," I confess. "Why do you keep saying you're sorry?"

"You can't publically show your affection for Sweets even though you have a baby together" – she nods at my sleeping child in his stroller – "because he is no longer with us."

"It's fine, Dr. Brennan. I like seeing you and Agent Booth kiss. Wait. No – that sounds creepy. I'm not some voyeuristic perv, I just enjoy witnessing the two of you together because… you're, uh, cute," I finish lamely.

She arches an eyebrow. " _Cute_?"

"Sweet, adorable, precious-."

"I am aware what cute means, Miss Wick."

"Right, of course you do. I'm just saying-." I falter, considering how to put my emotions into words. "I'm envious that your baby's father is still around – I wish my Lancelot could be with me from the moment I wake up to the moment my head hits the pillow – and, yes, I'm envious of how much you and Booth love each other because I want that too. Everybody wants that. But I also don't want you or Booth to feel guilty in any way. You're _happy_. You should be allowed to show that without worrying about my reaction."

"I am very impressed, Daisy. You seem to have matured a lot."

"I think motherhood does that to you though, don't you? Being responsible for a tiny little person kind of puts things in perspective."

"I believe you are correct," Brennan says, more than a hint of pride in her smile. She nods at baby Hank, still tucked up in my arms. "Can I take him?"

"Of course." I carefully pass him over to her and she cradles him like an absolute pro.

My eyes flick between father and daughter, now playing on the swing set, both laughing exuberantly, and mother and son cuddling on the park bench. _They all look so content_ , I think to myself, _like one of those perfect, ridiculously photogenic families you seen in commercials_.

I know how long it took for them to have this life though and wonder if I myself am on a similar rollercoaster ride right now. The universe is throwing everything it can at me, but one day, I'll be happy too. As I observe the loving looks Booth and Brennan give each other for the rest of the afternoon, I have to believe my happy ending – like theirs – will be worth the wait.

 **Review?**


	2. Arastoo

**I'm not sure if Wendell and Arastoo are this close on the show, but I** ** _love_** **the friendship between Michael, Pej and Eugene so I wanted to showcase a little of that here. #Bloated**

When Cam came to me after Felicia's visit with the revelation that she wanted a big, over-the-top wedding, I hadn't realised just quite how difficult that would be to achieve because, as it turns out, wedding planning is _complicated_.

"Just suck it up, man," Wendell advises as we unwind in the Founding Fathers after a tough case. The two of us have become pretty close over the years and often confide in each other; whether it's about personal or professional matters, Wendell is my go to guy. However, on this particular occasion, his so-called words of wisdom are _not_ useful. At all.

"Just suck it up? That's all you have to say?"

He shrugs casually. "I've never planned a wedding, but it can't be that complex, can it? It's just a party. You can rearticulate entire skulls that are broken into little pieces, this should be a piece of cake in comparison."

"A _party_?" I repeat incredulously, the pitch of my voice rising exponentially. "Dude, I _wish_ it were that easy."

He chugs the rest of his drink and orders another. I'm still working on my non-alcoholic beer. "Talk it out then."

All right.

"First, there's the guest list. Cam's family is… well… _dramatic_. I can't keep up with who's mad at who, which aunt won't come to the wedding if another aunt goes. My family's pretty big too. Do we invite everyone? Who do we leave out? Is it going to cause a huge argument if we leave someone out? We want a big wedding, but _how_ big? When do we know we've invited too many people?"

Wendell's mouth opens and closes like a goldfish's as I unleash my wedding woes upon him. And I'm not even halfway done.

"What kind of ceremony do we have? If we include Christian rituals, my family could get offended. If we go Muslim, her family could be offended. If we go non-denominational, _everyone_ would be mad."

"Do we have candid or posed photography? Which photographer out of the million out there do we hire? Where do we hold the reception? Do we have a DJ or a band? I'm leaning towards a band, but maybe we should get a mixture of both? What kind of food should we serve – a regular three-course meal or a buffet where guests can help themselves? What flavour cake? Do we allow children to come? Who should I pick as my groomsmen? What kind of tux should I wear?"

" _Dude_ " – Wendell's eyes are wide with fear – "are you OK?"

"No." I bury my face in my hands, my mind swirling with questions about bouquets, bridesmaids and balloons. I know is this what Cam wants but it's just – it's overwhelming. Plus, where do we find the money to pay for all this on top of the large, family-sized house we want to buy? I'm not a best selling novelist or an inventor of weird flooring that prevents glass from breaking. I can't afford the extravagant ideas my fiancée is brewing.

"Hey," comes Booth's voice as he sits at the seat next to mine, and Hodgins rolls to Wendell's side across the table from us.

"What's going on, brother? You look as pale as a ghost."

"He's wedding planning," Wendell explains. "Or, more aptly, wedding freaking."

"You're having cold feet?" Booth questions, looking prepared to snap me in half if I break Cam's heart.

"No! No, not at all. Just-." I let out a sigh of dismay, running my fingers through my dishevelled hair. "Planning a wedding is _stressful_."

"Tell me about it," Hodgins chuckles knowingly while Wendell watches on, amused.

"What do you know about planning a wedding? You got married in a jail cell."

"Before you started working for Dr. B, Angela and I had a week to plan an impromptu wedding. We didn't go through with it because – well, it was complicated – but that week was non-stop wedding hell, so I totally know what you're going through."

"I love Cam and I want her to have what she wants," I start truthfully, "but equally she's super busy in the lab right now and doesn't have the time to organise the wedding, leaving all these decisions to _me_. I am not qualified to make these decisions!"

"Why don't you just talk to her about it? I'm sure she'll understand."

"She already asked me if I could cope and I promised I could," I grumble as Booth claps me supportively on the back.

"You'll get through it, pal. Don't worry."

"That's basically what I told him to do and he ignored me," Wendell complains.

Hodgins immediately jumps to my defence. "Booth's married, so his advice – even if it is the same – sounds more believable."

"He's right," I say.

"Bug Boy is always right and so am I. Listen. This is yours and Cam's day. Don't stress about what other people think of your wedding and just do what you want. Thirty years from now, you're not gonna remember what flowers you picked or whether the tables were circular or square, you're going to remember the way she looked when she walked down the aisle and the vows and the honeymoon suite, right?"

A smile inks onto my face as I picture what my bride will look like in her dress. She'll be beautiful no matter whether the dress is simple or princess style, I have no doubt about it. I nod at the FBI agent. "Absolutely."

Wendell is wearing a shit-eating grin as he turns to Booth, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "So is that what you remember most about your entire wedding? The sex afterwards?"

"Hey, I'm still a guy," he jokes, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

I roll my eyes at the two of them. "I remember your vows the best from that day. They're the most romantic ones I've ever heard."

"Well, I try," he says bashfully.

"Are you two writing your own vows as well?" Hodgins asks, his tone thick with intrigue.

"We're going to attempt it, yeah. I've already written most of mine; I'm using lines from the Farsi poetry I wrote her near the beginning of our relationship. I thought that might be romantic."

"Sounds it," Wendell approves. "Soon enough I'm going to be the only non-married guy in the group. Not sure how I feel about that."

"Why don't you propose to Andie then?"

His eyes are as wide as saucers, making me chuckle. "No way in hell am I ready for _that_. Getting married is a _huge_ commitment. No chance. Not in the foreseeable future, anyway."

"Each to their own, I suppose," Booth responds with a shrug. "All I know is that marrying Bones was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Same here with Angie."

"I can't wait to marry Cam," I add, and it's true. My whole life I've always wanted to be a husband, a father, to have a family of my own. In a few months time, I'll have ticked off one of those goals and to have such a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman as Cam be my _wife_? I feel extremely blessed.

Well, she _will_ be my wife, just so long as I can survive the planning process first.

 **Thanks for your reviews on the previous chapter, perhaps you could leave another one here? :-)**


	3. Jessica

**I have to confess: I'm not the** ** _biggest_** **Jessica fan. I think she has her moments where she's hilarious, but honestly, she kind of annoys me so I tend to skip most of her scenes when I'm re-watching. I don't really know her that well so I don't know whether this is a little OOC… Oops?**

"How's the case going on your end?" I ask Aubrey as we sit opposite each other at the team's regular Royal Diner spot.

He pauses, his second hamburger halfway to his mouth. "It's OK, I suppose. I'm talking to the victim's roommate this afternoon, which should help us figure out if anybody wanted her dead. How about you? You find cause of death yet?"

I roll my eyes as he stuffs the entire burger into his mouth. We've been dating for several months now and I still can't figure out how he eats such huge quantities of food. I sip at my coffee and begin to explain my findings. "To answer your question, no, we have not discovered cause of death yet but we have found lots of interesting injuries. Our vic has fractures all over her skeleton, but there's a _ton_ of remodelling suggesting-."

"They occurred long before death."

"Yes," I say, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"Hey, I listen when you're talking to me."

I narrow my eyes, disbelieving.

"OK, OK, I read one of your forensic journals last week while you were taking a bath. It was very enlightening."

"I have to say, I'm impressed, superman."

"Thank you," he responds, grinning broadly. "About the fractures…"

"Right. So the injuries are consistent with those that would be there if our victim was abused as a child."

His grin fades away. " _Abused_?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"That's- that's awful… Hey, is that Booth and Dr. B?"

My gaze follows his and finds that, indeed, our co-workers are walking towards the Diner, Booth laughing gaily at something his wife says. I smooth my hands over my hair and adjust the collar of my shirt so that it's straight, wanting to impress my boss at all times. I catch Aubrey staring at me and my eyes flick to his. " _What_?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure I look smart for when Dr. B sees me."

His face is lit with amusement. "Why?"

"Because she's the most influential person at the Jeffersonian and I want her to _like_ me," I answer in hushed tones as I see the married couple are now on our side of the rode and feet away from the entrance. "Here they come! Be professional."

I watch as Booth opens the door and holds it so Dr. Brennan can enter first. _A true gentleman_ , I think dreamily, and impulsively shout their names. I feel my cheeks flush hot as everybody looks over at us and I stick my hand up in an awkward wave. _Embarrassing, but at least I've caught their attention._

"Aubrey, Miss Warren," Dr. Brennan greets with a polite smile as they wander over to our table.

I hadn't really thought this through any further than calling them over so they are a several uncomfortable beats of silence. "Um, how are you?"

"I'm hungry," Booth says curtly, folding his arms in front of his chest. "So do you need anything or?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch with us?"

" _Have lunch with you_?"

"Yeah. You know, you'd sit down, order some pie, we can talk about our lives… kind of like a double date."

"A double date?" Booth repeats sceptically, lifting his eyebrows. "I don't know…"

"Me either. It seems Aubrey has already finished eating anyway." She gestures at all the empty plates in front of him, a few meagre crumbs the only things left of my boyfriend's sizeable lunchtime meal.

"Oh no, I always have room for more, Dr. B. Come on, sit."

Reluctantly Agent Booth sits next to me, an apprehensive expression on his face, and Dr. Brennan opposite him. I wait for them to order their food and begin my attempt at bonding with the couple. "So, how are your kids?" I question, knowing parents _love_ to talk about their children. It's a sure fire way to kick the conversation into gear.

"They're fine," my boss states.

"Is that a-all?" I stammer, taken aback. "I thought that question would help bring us closer together so we can get on more efficiently in the lab."

"I wasn't aware that we didn't get along, Miss Warren."

"Oh." I sit there silently, pondering whether I'd completely misjudged our relationship. Like Dr. Brennan, I didn't exactly have a traditional upbringing and consequently I can find it difficult to read people sometimes.

"Maybe we should talk about the case," Aubrey suggests and I nod enthusiastically. Now _that's_ a good way to get the chatter flowing. I knew I liked him for a reason.

"Our victim was abused as a child."

"What evidence do you have for that, Miss Warren? Or is it another one of your _vibes_?"

"It's a vibe based off factual evidence," I say defensively. "She experienced extensive fracturing that has remodelled and is suggestive of an assailant continually beating her when she was young."

"That's like a gut instinct, right? I like that – going with the gut."

I beam at Booth and Dr. Brennan purses her lips disapprovingly. "There are many other alternatives that would explain the fracturing, for example, gymnastics, BMXing or even childhood obesity which built up pressure on the bones, resulting in numerous breaks. We do not have all the facts yet, Miss Warren, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump to meaningless conclusions."

" _Bones -."_

"That's OK, Agent Booth. I know Dr. Brennan's refusal to draw reasonable assumptions is due to her own personal-."

" _Jessica_ -," Aubrey hisses.

My mentor's gaze turns icy. "My own personal, _what_ , Miss Warren?"

"Your own childhood trauma with your parents abandoning you and the foster sys-."

"Don't say another word," Booth orders, pointing a finger at me and then turning to Aubrey. "What the hell is wrong with your girlfriend, huh?"

"There's nothing _wrong_ with-," I go to argue, but am cut off by the waitress' arrival at the table, their food in hand.

"Tell you what, can we have that to go?" She nods, taking their meals back behind the counter to be boxed up.

"Booth, please, just hear her out."

"Let's go, Bones." They ignore us as they scrape back their chairs, collect their take-out and leave without a second look in our direction.

I hide my head in my hands, my hair falling in front of me. "I messed up, didn't I?"

"Yes," he responds honestly.

"Do you think she'll fire me?"

"Maybe." My eyes flick to his, the ends of my nerves frayed. I can't believe I might lose the internship I've worked so hard for just because of a dumb comment. Then he starts to speak again, trying desperately to reassure me that my job us secure. "Dr. B has evolved a lot, even during the relatively short time I've known her. Go to her office, apologise, and talk things through. She'll be more understanding than you expect."

"Yes, I should do that." I stand, quickly putting my jacket on. "Can you-."

"I've got the bill," he assures. "Go."

"OK." I peck his lips before hurrying out in the same direction Booth and Brennan had just gone.

When I arrive in her office, my lungs heaving after running the entire way here, I find Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan sitting next to each other eating their lunch alone as they'd originally intended, the former offering the latter a piece of his pie. I decide to announce my presence, knowing it will not write me into the good books, but needing to speak my mind as soon as possible. "Dr. Brennan! Hello again."

Startled, they look over, their faces clearly falling when the surprise guest turns out to be me. I have to confess, that hurts a little.

"Miss Warren, what you doing here? We're busy."

"Can I speak to you outside for a minute? It's really important."

"If I must," she mutters, begrudgingly putting down her food and leaving her office with me. I wring my hands together anxiously as we stand opposite each other, my nerves – and, honestly, my ego a little bit as well – getting the better of me. "Miss Warren, if you could hurry up. I'd like to return to my lunch with my husband."

"Right. Of course. I didn't mean to insinuate anything offensive about you when I said why you wouldn't accept my vibe about the victim's injuries. You're an excellent scientist, Dr. Brennan, and I hope you'll allow me to continue my internship, to continue learning from you."

"Apology accepted," she says graciously, loosening the knots in my stomach. "Your comments were out of line but you're still young and even us geniuses make mistakes sometimes."

A smile grows on my face. _Dr. Brennan just referred to me as a genius!_ "So I can continue interning here?"

"Of course, Miss Warren, I find your observations to be quite astute, _and_ " – she pauses, glancing at Agent Booth through the window – "I feel I must apologise to you as well."

" _Me_? Why?" My nose wrinkles in confusion.

"Booth and I did a quick background check – after your vibe about her being a victim of child abuse. We discovered several reports of domestic disturbances 17 years ago, when she would have been a child."

I light up like a Christmas tree. "My vibe was _right_?"

"I does seem that way, yes, Miss Warren," she congratulates proudly.

I'm so excited I could hug her. "Can I hug you?" I ask aloud, already anticipating her negative response.

"That's really not necessary-."

I do it anyway, throwing my arms around her and squeezing tightly, while she sticks her arms outright like she doesn't know what to do with them. I pull away from her, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, well, you've been fortunate this time, however, the same may not be the case in the future, so we only look for the evidence from now on and leave everything else to Booth and Aubrey, OK?"

"OK," I reply hesitantly. "I suppose we do all the hard work, we should probably let them do _something_."

She laughs that dorky laugh of hers that never fails to amuse me. "Yes, we should. They are rather good at their jobs, so we should allow them do actually _do_ their jobs more often."

"Yes," I murmur, my thoughts drifting to my boyfriend wearing that holster of his and his FBI badge that he looks _so_ good in, "they are very good."

 **I feel like this one is kind of crap, but if you'd leave a review I'd appreciate it anyway. :)**


	4. Clark

**Sorry this one is so late and the editing is rushed. I've just had a three hour car journey and this is the first opportunity I've had to finish off this chapter and edit it so there may be some silly mistakes. I apologise in advance!**

My alarm goes off at 7am sharp, just like any other day.

I butter my toast and quickly eat it before hurrying out of my apartment, just like any other day.

I sit at my desk, dropping my satchel to the floor and log into my computer so I can check my emails, just like any other day.

Except this isn't just any other day. Something about my co-workers at the Jeffersonian seems… _off_.

For example, I'd run into Naomi from Palaeontology earlier. We've always got on well together in the past, we've even been on a few dates that didn't work out but didn't affect the amicable rapport we've always shared. However, today she'd seemed – for lack of a better word – _weird_.

(As I rush towards my office, my paper cup of steaming black coffee in one hand, I don't really look where I'm going – my brain filled with thoughts of what I need to do today – and my shoulder bumps into something, or rather, someone. Naomi. "I'm so sorry," I swiftly apologise, a stab of guilt piercing my chest at how close I was to spilling my coffee and burning her.

"It's fine, Clark. Don't worry about it," she murmurs, averting her gaze.

"You sure?"

"Yes, of course. Nobody got hurt. No biggy."

I narrow my eyes. Since when has she _ever_ said "no biggy?" And why won't she look at me? "Is everything OK?" I ask, concern written over my face. "You seem… distracted."

She shakes her head from left to right, waving off my attention, her eyes still focused intently upon something behind me. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just busy, you know? Lots to do today. In fact, I better get started. Bye, Clark."

Before I can even say goodbye in return, she's sped off in the complete opposite direction to the Palaeontology department, leaving me more than a little confused. I spin around, finding nothing behind me. Wondering what on Earth she could have been staring at and why she'd been acting so unusually, I head to my office, determined to find out her problem by the end of the day.)

The bizarreness doesn't just stop with Naomi though. Oh no. Everybody is up to it.

Like most of the Jeffersonian, my office has a glass wall. It can be very useful as it allows people to see if I'm in my office and adds some natural light to what would otherwise be a dimly lit room, but it can also be frustrating and disruptive. Like today. Whenever anybody clad in a blue lab coat walks past, they all stop and stare at me. Whenever I glance up, their mouths twitch with amusement and they scamper away.

"Is there something on my face?" I think aloud, using my switched off phone screen as a mirror. Looking closely, I can't see any remnants of toothpaste on my mandible or food stuck between my molars. I can see nothing wrong with my hair either. I'd just been to the barber two days ago and it's been looking pretty slick, thank you very much.

However, that means something else must be wrong with me to make every member of staff at the Jeffersonian Institute behave adversely.

I sigh, disgruntled. When will the people here learn to be _professional_? It drives me crazy.

Before I can dig any deeper into the situation, I get a text from Dr. Brennan, the anthropologist characteristically writing in full and complete English. At least _she's_ acting like herself.

 ** _Clark – We're at the crime scene and one of the victims appears to have been dead for over 100 years. Much to my disdain, Dr. Saroyan insists this is your jurisdiction. Meet us on the platform in 30 minutes. Dr. T Brennan._**

 ** _Will do_** **,** I type back simply, tacking a smiley face upon the end of the message for good measure. Maybe people think I'm grumpy at _that's_ why they're acting so strangely around me. Although I doubt it as my behaviour at work has always remained consistent, I decide to end every text message with emoticons from now onwards. It can't hurt, can it? At least they'll see that I'm not in a bad mood, that I'm just trying to act as professionally and discretely as possible.

I finish replying to the last few emails – one to my editor about the sequel to my debut novel and another about an upcoming dig they need an experienced anthropologist for – and put on my blue lab coat. I leave my office for the platform and see Doctors Brennan, Saroyan and Hodgins have already arrived and are unloading the bodies with assistance from the crime scene techs. I swipe my ID card and jog up the few steps to reach the forensics platform, the place we bring all the remains at the start of every investigation. I can see two skeletons, one of which is surrounded by my three co-workers and the other looks significantly more decomposed. I assume the second belongs to me and put on my gloves with a snap of latex.

I step closer to the table where the skeleton lies and can immediately see it has suffered a lot of post-mortem damage and, upon further examination, I notice that there are bones missing.

"Dr. Brennan, where are the rest of the remains?" I question, spinning around to face her. Hodgins and Cam immediately start sniggering and I furrow my brow. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, Dr. Edison. Two people have been murdered," Dr. Brennan answers obtusely, too engrossed by the remains to take notice of the laughter I'm referring to.

"No, not that, _that_."

She glances up to see me pointing at the pathologist and entomologist currently laughing their asses off. "Oh," she says, then returns to her skeletal analysis.

"What the hell is going on?" I demand, my ire growing. I just want to work but their lack of professionalism is infuriating.

"The… You…" Hodgins' words break off, doubling over with laughter in his chair.

I look to our boss. She is normally reasonably good at keeping personal things personal at work, but she cannot form a sentence either from laughing too hard.

I sigh and turn to my only hope. "Dr. Brennan, do you know what's so funny?"

"I do not. Although Booth was laughing in a similar manner last night when he saw the email, so perhaps their amusement is related to that. The supraorbital foramen-."

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE SUPRAORBITAL FORAMEN!"

Everyone on the platform falls silent, their eyes bugging wide with shock.

"Dr. Edison, please, it's important to remain professional," Dr. Brennan admonishes.

" _Professional?_ " I sputter, gesturing frantically at Doctors Hodgins and Saroyan. "They're the ones pissing their pants laughing at me without explaining why. Everyone is acting so strange around here today. What is going _on_?"

"You really don't know?" Hodgins raises his eyebrows.

"Know _what_?"

"The email you sent last night…"

I crinkle my nose. "What email?"

"The email… with the video of you attached…" Hodgins chuckles.

"I never sent an email last night and I certainly didn't attach any videos of myself," I say, then realisation dawns. "Wendell said his computer wasn't working when he ran into me as I was leaving… I offered him mine. _Damn it, Wendell_."

Bones be damned, I pull off my gloves and practically sprint to my office. I log onto my computer, my fingers dancing across the keyboard at record speed. I open up my email account and click on the 'sent' button. I have to scroll down quite a bit as I'd had a very productive morning, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I impatiently search for the cause of all this weird behaviour towards me. Then I see it and my heart pumps faster, my cheeks flushing red with humiliation.

 **From:**

 **To: All members of staff**

 **Subject: IMPORTANT!**

Attached is a video link from YouTube, the thumbnail a grainy picture of me in a stark white suit, white shirt and bright red tie, a fedora perched jauntily on my head and too-big sunglasses over my eyes. The video is titled 'Top 5 C-Sync Performances', much to my chagrin.

I don't even need to press play to know what it is or how embarrassing it is that every single person I work with has watched this video, probably multiple times.

I look up, hearing a knock on my office door, and find Dr. Brennan with Hodgins and Cam in tow.

"Are you all right, Dr. Edison?"

"Y-yeah," I reply, my voice strangled. I clear my throat. "Yeah. Fine. Just – humiliated."

"It was only a bit of fun, brother."

"I know, I know. I've just worked so hard to keep personal things personal for this very reason. Now everybody at the Jeffersonian is laughing at me because of my MC alter ego I created in college to earn a few extra bucks on the side." My tone is despondent and Cam jumps in to cheer me up.

"If it helps, Dr. Hodgins once found a video of me in 'Invasion of the Mother Suckers', which is as humiliating as it sounds."

"Oh! That was very amusing," Dr. Brennan says, snorting with laughter.

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan. What I'm trying to say is that if people are your real friends, they'll be laughing with you, not _at_ you."

"I'm pretty sure everybody is laughing _at_ me," I grumble.

"We weren't. We thought you'd sent the video and found it as amusing as us. They'll find something new to entertain them soon enough. There's enough drama 'round here to have it's own reality show. C-Sync will be old news within a few days."

I glare at the entomologist. "I want my co-workers to respect me academically, not use me as gossip for the break room."

"We do respect you academically," Dr. Brennan insists and my glare softens as I look at her. "More than that, we respect you _personally_ as well. You are one of the kindest and most intelligent people that we have working here, Dr. Edison. An amusing video doesn't change that."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, appreciating how the anthropologist always has our backs. She's a great mentor and I feel honoured to have worked alongside her for so many years. "I still want to kill Wendell though for sending it to everybody on the email list."

Cam cracks a smile. "As long as you don't do it on the Jeffersonian's grounds."

"I won't," I respond, chuckling lowly. "Can we get back to the remains now?"

"I think we should listen to it once more," Hodgins protests.

I roll my eyes, but click play anyway. They are, after all, very good friends and I know this won't change how they value my scientific expertise. The old school rap begins to blast out of my speakers and I have to laugh along with them. It _is_ pretty amusing.

 **Oh, I do love Clark Edison/C-Sync. 3**

 **PS. I'm going to be in London all day tomorrow (leaving at 8am and not getting back til really late at night) so it's unlikely I'll be able to finish and edit the chapter to post – it may have to wait until Sunday. Sorry!**

 **PPS. Leave a quick review please, they make me so happy :)**


	5. Beth

***crosses my fingers and toes that Betty White will return in s12***

"Just leave then!" My sixth husband had yelled just two hours earlier after months of disagreements and suspicions between us brought our relationship to the boiling point, the anger spilling over like lava down the flanks of a volcano, however, the only death and destruction is of our marriage.

"Fine! I will!" I'd shouted back in the heat of the moment, storming out of our shared condo with nothing but my handbag and laptop in tow. I'll ask him to ship me the rest of my belongings once I've found a place to stay, but knowing that jealous son of a bitch, he'd probably burnt them seconds after my departure.

UGH. I hate him. I really do. I think he's been the worst out of the six so far; he had absolutely zero trust in me and trust is one of the most important things in any relationship. He was constantly doubting me and creating arguments over nothing at all. We haven't been married long, but it's not my shortest marriage (which had been a mere six months, ending abruptly when I came home to find the old wart in bed with another woman). I'll file for divorce tomorrow with relatively few qualms because, in all honesty, I can't wait to be rid of him. I'm Dr. Beth Brinkley ( _screw his name_ ) for goodness sake. I'm one of the best forensic anthropologists in the country. I deserve better than him.

The first place I go is the Founding Fathers. Nothing like some good old Scotch to help you get over a failed marriage. As I sit at the bar sipping at my drink, I can't help but notice a handsome white-haired man opposite me with sparkling eyes and a flirty smile. I grin, wiggling my fingers at him in a wave.

"Dr. Mayer?"

"Oh, Dr. Brennan," I say, swivelling my head to see the beautiful anthropologist approach me. "Take a seat."

"OK." She sits herself on the barstool beside me and orders a Scotch too. I'd explained the situation briefly on the phone when I'd called her and asked to meet, but I hadn't gone into detail. I assume she's more than a little confused as to why she's in a bar with me on a Tuesday night when she should be tucking her adorable little munchkins into bed. "So, what's wrong?"

"Richard and I are getting divorced."

Her eyes bug and she goes to apologise, but I stop her with an upheld palm.

"Don't say sorry. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Four divorces must be difficult to process." She worries her lower lip as she speaks and my lips quirk into a smile. Ever since my first case with her at the Jeffersonian we've talked a lot and I have to say that the reports about her being a cold fish are completely false. She's one of the most caring people I've ever met and an excellent mother.

"One more than Ross from Friends. Better start calling _me_ The Divorce Force," I joke.

"I don't know what that means."

"Of course you don't." I shake my head, amusement filling my expression. "It's a reference from a TV show, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't really watch television." She crinkles her nose adorably. "Unless it's the news, a kids show or something Booth wants to watch," she backtracks.

"Of course. Speaking of your ridiculously attractive husband, that's why I asked you to come here tonight."

"You don't want to sleep with him, do you? I really like you, Dr. Mayer, but-."

"No, no. Nothing like that. Although I'm sure every woman with a pulse would like to sleep with him – he's h-o-t _, HOT –_ that's not it. I wanted some advice."

" _Advice_?" She repeats incredulously. "I really don't think I'm qualified."

"Of course you are, Dr. Brennan. You and Booth are happily married, are you not?"

"You know that we are."

"Good. Then you're perfectly qualified to advise me on how to become happily married too."

She furrows her brow. "You've not even removed your ring yet and you're already looking for a new husband?"

"Don't say it like _that_ ," I chuckle and pull of the gold band, discarding it carelessly. The only ring I've kept was that of my first husband – Steven – who'd tragically passed away from cancer after nearly twenty years of marriage. I loved him very much – still do – and think of him everyday, but an old gal like me can't stay alone. I need a partner around so I don't die of boredom or loneliness. Hence the need for a new groom. "I'm just looking for a bit of male company in my waning years, is that so bad?"

"Not at all. I think it's admirable that you haven't given up on finding love after all these years and six husbands."

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan." We both finish our drinks and order two more. "So tell me. What am I doing wrong?"

She hesitates as I imagine the words flying through that remarkable brain of hers to form cogent sentences I will find useful. It takes her a while, but she eventually returns to reality and says, "our partnership is the foundation of our relationship."

I'm not in a crime-solving duo with a hunky FBI hero by my side, so I press for more.

"Because of our work – and the consequent danger we are in – there is a deep-rooted trust between the two of us," she explains, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.

"So what you're saying is that I have to find someone I trust inexplicably?" I ask.

"Yes, but more than that. Have you read those articles about our relationship? How long it took us to be together?"

"Everybody has, Dr. Brennan," I return.

"Well then you know that we were friends for a very long time and although now we both wish we could have been platonic for significantly less time than we were, that friendship, combined with our natural chemistry and obvious appreciation of each other's impressive physiques" – her smile becomes a smirk, clearing thinking about her husband's Ranger-trained body – "is what makes our marriage so strong today. Does that make sense?"

I nod slowly. "I think so."

"Do you have anybody like that?" She questions. "A really good friend you've known for years and understands you on a level nobody else can?"

 _Marcus_ immediately screams at me and my cheeks pink.

"You have someone!" She exclaims excitedly. "What's his name?"

"Marcus," I confess, my neck heating up at the prospect of being anything other than platonic with him. Like Dr. Brennan said, we've known each other for what feels like forever. My life without him in is unimaginable. He knows me deeply, intimately, and I trust him more than any other person on Earth. There's always been a… _spark_ between us and people constantly mistake us for a couple.

It helps that he's very attractive. Obviously – like me – he's aged and wrinkles now grace his once chiselled, sun-kissed face, but his eyes are just as kind as ever and his smile could light up the deepest, darkest cave. The truth is I've just never thought of him this way before: a _romantic_ way. However, now it's started, like waves crashing against the rocks, it cannot be stopped. The feelings of romantic love – Eros, they call it – soar and I begin to realise that I do, I love Marcus.

Dr. Brennan's eyes twinkle knowingly. "Marcus, huh?"

"Stop it," I admonish, swatting at her. "He might not even be interested."

"Can I see a picture of the two of you together?"

I easily agree to her request and procure my cell phone. I open up a picture of the two of us together and spin it round so she can see.

It's a photograph we took together a few Thanksgivings ago and it's one of my favourites of the two of us. We're both wearing huge smiles with his arm wrapped around my shoulder, giving me that wonderful look he always manages to wear in my presence. I feel a sudden pang of desire. I want – no, need – to be with him now, to tell him how I feel, even if he doesn't return the sentiment.

"He loves you," Dr. Brennan declares, shattering my reverie into a million shards.

"He _does_?" I feel like a schoolgirl all over again, but I can't help it. Her announcement makes my heart flutter with hope, joy and a small fear of rejection. "How can you be sure?"

"He looks at you like Booth looks at me," she says simply. "Go to him. Tell him you love him back. If I've learnt anything from my relationship with Booth, it's that sometimes it's important to go with your instincts – your gut, my husband calls it – when it comes to the most precious things in life such as love. I could have been spared so much pain, so much loneliness, if I'd just gone with my gut and taken the plunge, agreed to be with Booth."

"You're right, Dr. Brennan. You're absolutely right." I stand from my stool, my face filled with sincerity. "Thank you very much!"

"You're welcome. Good luck," she calls after me as I leave the Founding Fathers and head towards my new future – one that hopefully includes Marcus in a strictly non-platonic way.

* * *

 ** _Six months later…_**

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!"

A cheer breaks out amongst our guests and spreads like a Californian wildfire, the rapturous applause from our family and friends serving as the backing track as Marcus captures my lips with his.

The sound fades away. Nothing else matters. It's just me and him and pure, unadulterated happiness.

As we separate and turn to our guests, my hand locked in his, I know my grin is stretched from ear to ear. We're married and it feels so good, so _right_. We begin to walk back down the aisle that's lined with white and purple floral displays, but I don't look where I'm going – I know my _husband_ will always catch my fall – my eyes too busy searching out Dr. Brennan.

I finally spot her, stood on the sixth row and dressed in a beautiful red gown beside her tuxedo-clad husband and two adorable kids. I beam in her direction, my eyes shining with unshed tears because I know this is my final time in a white dress, my final time walking down the aisle and my final husband. I'm it for Marcus and he's it for me. I look forward to sharing my final days in married bliss with my perfect husband by my side. And I have to thank Dr. Brennan for it all, for gifting me this new life.

I can't wait to learn what happens next.

 **Re-reading this, I feel like there are probably *too* many nature references** **(LOL, such a geographer), but oh well. I'm also exhausted so any mistakes I've missed in the editing process are all my fault.**

 **Leave a review? :)**


	6. Rudolfo

**Set during The Repo Man in the Septic Tank after Brennan tells Booth that Fuentes wants to sleep with her for the first time. Booth has a word with the Jeffersonian's newest squintern.**

"These remains are disgusting," I mutter under my breath, crinkling my nose in disgust. The stench caused by the victim being dumped into the septic tank obviously has something to do with it, the smell of death invading my nostrils making it a whole lot worse. Even after cleaning, the smell still lingers, making me want to throw up.

I hear footsteps entering the bone room behind me and I freeze, embarrassed that Dr. Saroyan – or worse, _Dr. Brennan_ – had heard my complaint after their goodwill in assigning me to this case.

My eyes remain fixed on the skeleton as I call out my new boss' name helplessly. "Dr. Brennan?"

"No," comes a gruff male voice from right beside me. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see the broad shouldered, dark haired man in a crisp suit and tie stood next to me, one hand resting casually on the metal table, showing off his impressive musculature. His stare is icy. I'd seen a lot of bad things in Cuba before I defected, but nothing quite so intimidating as the man in the suit. "Dr. Brennan's husband."

"Ah." I gulp, fresh fear rising within me when I remember his occupation. "Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI."

"And former Sergeant Major in the Army, _kid_."

I work out three times a week, but I'm pretty sure this guy could snap me in half. A reminder of his job as a federal agent and his former rank in the Army only serves to emphasise just how weak I am in comparison to him and his tree trunk arms. "I'm impressed," is all I manage to come out with.

His expression turns smug. "You should be. Now I believe you and I need to have a little chat."

"I have remains to examine…"

"I'll keep your complaining there a secret," he blackmails and I sigh in dismay, conceding his point.

"Fine. Uh, what is it we need to discuss, Agent Booth?" I ask feebly.

"My wife" – he makes sure to reiterate, as if I don't already know –"has reliably informed me that you believe you will be having sex with her."

I grimace uncomfortably. I'd figured that topic had not yet been fully dealt with. And it's clear by the way he's looking at me that I'm not going to come off well in this conversation. "I'd just like to-."

" _No_ ," he barks, making me flinch. "You're not saying anything. Understand?"

I nod weakly, deciding that arguing with an already pissed off FBI agent _probably_ wouldn't be in my best interests.

"First off, I'd like to make it abundantly clear that she is _not_ some object you can ogle to your heart's content. She's the best anthropologist in the world and, from what she tells me, you have a lot you need to learn from her. _Respect_ her. Make the most of this opportunity. Do _not_ objectify her or any other woman in this lab for that matter. Got it?"

I nod again.

"Good. Secondly, she is a married woman. She wears a ring, for God's sake. Flirting with her and coming on to her is neither appropriate – she is your boss, after all – or desired. She doesn't want to sleep with you or any other man, so don't you dare imply otherwise, OK?"

"OK," I mumble, my voice barely audible.

"What was that?"

"OK," I repeat.

"I'm glad we're on the same page, Mr Fuentes," he says, before his tone becomes low and scathing once again. "And finally, if you so much as give her one longing look or make her uncomfortable in _any way_ , I'll find out about it. And did you know I was a sniper?"

I shake my head. I did not, but I do now and I am _terrified._

"Well, I was and a good one at that. Ask Bones, she'll tell you."

I furrow my brow. _Bones_? "Who is Bones?"

"That's my nickname for Dr. Brennan. You know, _my wife_." He stresses the final two words and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"I know she's your wife. You've only said it like one million times."

He squares up to me, his eyes dark, fierce. "What did you just say?"

"That I am aware you are married. It's unnecessary to keep repeating it."

"Unnecessary, huh? You mean like your job at the Jeffersonian?" Bones has _lots_ of interns better than you and thousands of grad students vying to take your place," he threatens lowly.

"The Secretary of State insisted I work here because I am excellent at what I do," I argue back, my accent becoming thicker and stronger as I become angrier. "You don't have the authority to fire me here, Agent Booth."

" _Try me_."

"Booth? What are you doing here?"

Both our heads swivel round at Dr. Brennan's surprise entrance. She looks equally shocked to see her husband standing in the bone room next to me, causing me to grin. That's not exactly the look of somebody happy to see somebody else, is it?

My grin swiftly disappears as Booth saunters towards her, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss. I avert my gaze, my cheeks flushing hot.

"I missed my beautiful wife," I hear him explain as I train my eyes on the skeleton, willing something, anything, to speak to me and distract the FBI agent from the strong dislike he feels towards me.

"Aww. I missed you too," she murmurs. I hear the sounds of more kissing and bile rises in my throat. Um, guys? I'm stood _right here._ Hello!

Bingo bango. I spot a fracture we haven't seen before. She's going to be _so_ impressed. "Dr. Brennan?" I call, watching as she and her husband grudgingly separate, my new boss standing on the opposite side of the skeleton to me. "I've found a new Spider Web fracture-."

"Suggestive of blunt force," she finishes. "Very good, Mr Fuentes."

I smirk at Booth, who shoots daggers back in my direction. All right. At least _one_ person is pleased about my discovery that may be useful in solving the investigation.

"Actually, Mr Fuentes," she starts and I feel my stomach drop; this can't be good, "it seems you have made an error."

"He has?"

"I have?" My tone sounds much more panicked than Booth's hopeful and slightly smug one.

"You have," she responds, moving the MedioCam over the injury. "See here? What is that?"

I look closely at the fractured bone and realise she's correct. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to admit that I'd been wrong to myself and certainly not to Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth. "Remodelling," I say as quietly as I can get away with.

"Which suggests, what?"

"That the injury occurred antemortem and likely has nothing to do with cause of death. It's probably from an assailant in prison."

"Good, Mr Fuentes. Now, do you have anything more pertinent to the case or are you going to continue to waste my valuable time?"

"Perhaps." I round the table so I'm beside her and reach across her front to pick up the patella. "It appears our victim's knees have been damaged."

"Is that relevant, Mr Fuentes?"

I give her a flirty smile and a wink. "Not yet, Dr. Brennan, but maybe I can do something more with it after further analysis."

"You can call me when you know more," she responds, snapping off her latex gloves.

"Oh, I would love to call you, Dr. Brennan." My eyes dance with delight until the meet the stony face of one Special Agent Seeley Booth. Fear flashes across my face. Too flirty. "Um. I mean-. Uh. Yes, I'll call you. About the case only, obviously. What else would I call you about?" I chuckle humourlessly and don't miss the looks the married couple share that say, "who the hell _is_ this guy?"

"Would you like to get some food at the Diner, Booth?" She questions, ignoring my sentence, the words that tumble awkwardly over each other.

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to, Bones," he replies, giving her a charm smile as she approaches him and he slings one arm around her waist, pulling her close.

I can't help but stare after them, well, her, mostly. Her physique is very pleasing to the eye and such exquisiteness is made to be appreciated, right?

Right. At least I think so. It actually feels good when women stare at me – which happens often, I am supremely attractive, after all – and I would be lying if I said I didn't like the attention. It's a nice ego boost and that's never a bad thing in my opinion.

Booth, however, doesn't seem to agree.

Feeling eyes on them, he glances over his shoulder at me, his jaw tightly clenched, angry that his warnings have gone unnoticed, I suspect. " _Sniper_ ," he mouths at me, his expression deadly serious.

I quickly look away, swallowing the lump in my throat. As beautiful as Dr. Brennan is, she's not worth being murdered by Agent Booth for. Besides, with the way she's clinging on to him and vice versa as they disappear from view, I realise they're going to be together for a very, very long time and I don't stand the slightest chance with her. I purse my lips as I refocus on the remains. It is a shame. I had a feeling that with our supreme intellect, immensely attractive features and fervour we both put into examining skeletons, Dr. Brennan and I would be quite compatible sexually.

 _Oh well_ , I think dismissively, _America is significantly more populous than Cuba and with Latin blood coursing through my veins, there will be many more American females who won't be able to resist my charm or ridiculously good looks._

 **Review?**

 **PS. I've been offered a job for the next couple of weeks so uploads will probably be sparser… Apologies in advance!**


	7. Finn

**Sorry this took so long to write, I've been working all day, then coming home exhausted, collapsing on the couch to watch the Olympics (GO TEAM GB!) and falling asleep at like 9pm (lol). To make up for it, I'm going to attempt to post a couple more chapters this weekend - hopefully - but for now, here's a chapter with a wonderful past squintern that I miss very, very much. 3**

As I sit in the car, my seatbelt still crossed over my body, the engine still running - ready to speed off if I change my mind - my eyes are fixed upon the piece of paper in front of me.

 _ **You are cordially invited to the wedding of Dr. Camille Saroyan and Dr. Arastoo Vaziri.**_

Ever since the paper in front of me had been placed in my mailbox all those months ago, I've been constantly debating whether or not I should attend.

Of course I'm honoured to have received the invitation. It's been several years since I last worked at the Jeffersonian so to still be considered a good enough friend is wonderful. And it'll be nice to see everyone from the lab again. And I suspect the ceremony will be quite lovely. However, the one thought nagging my brain, the one thing preventing me from accepting or declining the invite is... Michelle.

I haven't seen her since we broke up, since she crushed my heart, shattering it into smithereens, but I think of her and all of our memories together each and every day. It's obvious that if I get out of this car, if I attend this wedding, I'm going to have to see her and confront feelings I'm not ready to deal with.

 _ **Ceremony begins at 11am**_ , the paper reads in a silver cursive script. As I glance up at the centre console of my car, I realise that is in ten minutes. It's now or never.

I internally weigh up the pros and cons.

Pros:

• It would be nice to see everybody from the Jeffersonian again

• I'd love to talk to Dr. Brennan about an upcoming dig I've been accepted to

• I am really very happy for Doctors Saroyan and Vaziri and, after the compassion the former showed me for the longest time, I feel I should join in their joyous celebration

• Michelle is the most probable candidate for Maid of Honour and I want to see how beautiful she looks in her dress

• I miss her smile, that bright, happy smile she gets where it positively stretches from ear to ear

• I want to talk to Michelle again, hear her voice, her musical laughter

• I want to tell Michelle that I still love her

Cons:

• What if Michelle doesn't love me back? What if she's moved on?

OK, so the majority of reasons are about Michelle, but since I can't conjure up any other reasons to not go in, I turn the key, the engine shutting off and engulfing the car in silence. I press the red button, freeing my seatbelt, smooth my tie and open the car door, stepping out into the pleasantly warm - but not sweltering - DC air.

As I begin my approach towards the traditionally styled hotel where their wedding is being held, I smile at passing guests, desperately ignoring the pounding in my chest.

I can't believe I'm finally going to see Michelle again after all this time. I can't believe it. I can't beli-.

I reach the hotel entrance and the door opens in front of me, a little old lady in a turquoise dress, jacket and matching hat with a feather protruding from the top is on the other side. With a welcoming smile, she holds open the door for me and I walk inside, shooting her that lilted grin of mine. I say a quick thanks and follow the rest of the guests towards the already-quite-full ceremony room.

My first thought as I enter the room is: _wow_.

The decoration is exquisite. There are flowers everywhere, bursting with colour and giving the air a beautiful floral aroma; the hotel has kept all of its traditional features like the oak beams above my head and the windows and the walls have been decorated with a plethora photographs of the almost-annoyingly attractive couple.

I see Hodgins in his chair and shoot him a wave before taking a seat near the back. We can catch up later, but for now, the wedding is about to begin.

The music starts playing and little Christine - who is not as little as she was when I last saw her - comes down the aisle first, dressed in a beautiful pink dress and dispersing the colourful petals as she makes her way towards the front, where my old co-worker anxiously awaits his bride. I smile as Christine waves at Agent Booth and the new baby in his lap; she's still cuter than a June Bug in a jumpsuit.

Next is the bridesmaids turn.

As I swivel my head towards the back of the room, I see the four beautiful bridesmaids appear with small bouquets in their hands.

My eyes immediately focus in on Michelle, my ex-girlfriend, the most stunning woman in the room - in any room - as far as I'm concerned. Her dress is pink with a sweetheart neckline, her hair perfectly curled and her make-up light and natural. She looks immensely beautiful, but that's to be expected. Those eyes that I love so much meet mine and widen slightly in surprise. I smile at her and, after a moments hesitation, she smiles back, her whole face lighting up.

I watch her, entranced, for the rest of the ceremony, unable to take my eyes off her. I've missed her so much and I can't wait to speak to her afterwards. My brain fills with thoughts of conversation starters as Doctors Saroyan and Vaziri exchange wedding bands, then everyone is on their feet, applauding the happy couple as they share a sweet kiss.

Hand-in-hand they walk down the aisle, confetti showering over them. They wear wide, irreplaceable grins and I'm pleased with my decision to come. They look very happy and I'm happy for them. Finding the love of your life is a wonderful thing and I'm glad they've found theirs.

Now if only I can get my love back...

* * *

As I sit at my circular table at the reception, the other squinterns from the lab all around me, I feel a finger tapping my shoulder and my head snaps in their direction, my mouth falling open when I discover the culprit.

 _Michelle_.

I jump out of my seat, turning to face her, shock written over my expression. "Hi," I manage.

"Hey, Finn," she returns, just the sound of her voice saying my name making my heart pound in my chest. "It's nice to see you again - a big surprise, but nice."

"Yeah, I received the invitation and I couldn't turn down the opportunity to see you again."

She ducks her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She lifts her head again though and catches my eyes. "I've missed you."

Joy floods through me. "I've missed you too."

She grabs my hand and pulls me to a quiet corner of the extravagant hall where the wedding reception is being held. I hear wolf-whistling from my former co-workers but block out the sound, focusing fully on the feel of my hand in Michelle's, a feeling I've missed so dearly.

We pause when we reach her desired destination, there's a beat of awkward silence, neither of us knowing what to do or say.

"Do you remember our first kiss?" I say out of the blue.

She's caught off guard, but then a soft smile grows on her face. "Yes, I do. Of course I do. It's very special to me - _you're_ very special to me."

I try to keep the hope out of my eyes. "I said 'it's easier to catch a ray of sunshine than smile at a beautiful woman' and then-."

"I did this-." She surges upwards on her toes, her lips catching mine in surprise. I freeze, taken aback, but then respond eagerly, my hands snaking around her waist, pulling her closer. _God, I've missed this_ , is all I can think as we separate, our hearts beating faster than normal.

I clear my throat. My cheeks are bright red, I know it. "That was, uh-. Good..."

"Good?" Her eyes sparkle, clearly amused at my reaction.

"Very good," I affirm. "Are you-. Are you seeing anybody?"

"Nope," she replies, her lips inches from mine. "Are you?"

"No."

Her lips tick skywards. "Good."

Now is my turn to kiss her. And I don't stop. We have so much time to make up for, after all.

 **Review?**


	8. Vincent

**A slightly different one...**

 _It's impossible not to love this place_ , I think as I sit in the break room, a cup of Yorkshire Tea warming my hands. No matter how long I've worked here for the rush of excitement, the surge of pride I get every time the news report another solved murder case by the "Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal Lab, the most elite team of forensic scientists America has to offer" (and that's a direct quote from a Post article I have framed on a wall in my apartment) will never, ever get old. It's such an incredible feeling to know that I'm one of the most elite forensic scientists in the country, solving the murders of extremely decomposed and incomplete remains, returning people's identities to them and finding justice. I love it here. I love the impressive architecture of the building, the beautiful gardens, the prestige of it all and, above everything else, the people.

Oh, how I love the people.

As I sip my tea, I cast my mind over those I feel truly honoured to know.

Angela Montenegro. Not only is she one of the most physically beautiful people I've ever seen, she's equally beautiful on the inside. Caring, kind-hearted and full of genuine respect for everyone around her. She's also immensely talented at her facial reconstructions and, of course, her art. She once painted me a picture of Yorkshire, where I attended university, the green dales that extend for miles and reminds me so much of a place that was home for so long. The framed painting that sits proudly on my bedside table is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I fall to sleep. It brings me peace and happiness, even though the sky in Angela's portrayal is much clearer than the real thing ever is.

Dr. Jack Hodgins. Angela's genius husband and the father of her child. Like his wife, he has a warm, welcoming heart and a passion for science that I share in equal abundance. We always have such fun together, especially when one of his famed experiments go wrong. I have a strong appreciation for the hard-working entomologist, even though I believe he's wrong about one thing. My supremely high IQ and ability to remember many obscure facts - for example, did you know that some moths never eat anything as adults because they don't gave mouths and therefore they must live on the energy they stored as caterpillars? - makes _me_ , not Hodgins, King of the Lab.

Dr. Camille Saroyan. Another beautiful, talented scientist. She's outstandingly good at her job as the Jeffersonian's chief pathologist and babysitter, attempting to control the rest of us squints who can be more like kindergarteners at times. She's sweet and funny and understanding; I always feel I can turn to her for advice or a good cheering up.

Dr. Temperance Brennan. Last, but by no means least. My boss, my mentor, my constant source of inspiration. Has anybody ever excelled in their field as much as Dr. Brennan before? She's heads and shoulders above every other anthropologist and, as a novelist, there are very few better than her. During my relatively short time working with her, learning from her, I've grown so much, both personally and intellectually. I could never be as amazing as an anthropologist as Dr. Brennan, but she's brought the best out of me, helped me reach the top of my game and, for that and so many other things, I will be eternally grateful for her.

As I finish my tea, I stand and pull on my cream-coloured intern lab coat, proudly emblazoned with the logo of the Medico-Legal lab. I button it up and leave the empty break room, passing other scientists on my way to Dr. Brennan's office. I smile at them, recognising a few familiar faces, but receive no reaction. They continue to look straight ahead, completely ignorant to my existence.

I continue onwards, steeling myself. They're probably just really focused on something they're working on. Nothing personal. I skirt around the forensic platform, my destination firmly in mind. I have some interesting findings I must share with Dr. Brennan right now.

As I approach her office, I see her sat at her desk, her chin resting in her hand as she stares intently at something on her laptop. Agent Booth stands beside her, which is not unusual - the partners are basically inseparable - but the concern on his face is. I slow to a stop, my shoulder leaning against the door frame as I once again go unnoticed.

"He was so young," I hear Dr. Brennan say, tears trickling down her cheeks. I don't ever think I've seen her cry, so something must be seriously wrong. "He shouldn't have-."

"I know, Bones," her FBI partner replies, his voice a low murmur that I have to strain to be able to hear.

"He had so much potential. He was so intelligent and could have even surpassed me. Why do bad things keep happening to my favourite interns?"

"He was a smart kid, that one. But I don't think I can answer _why_. Perhaps it's because of me. _I_ encouraged Zack to join the military - I think that's what shaped his later decision. He was too vulnerable. And it was me who gave Vincent the phone. I was meant to be the target, Bones, not him."

His face crumples as the characteristically stoic agent breaks down and pulls my mentor into a tight embrace. I avert my gaze, feeling like an intruder in their intimate moment. I turn on the spot, leaving then to it.

My chest aches with a swirling mixture of sadness and guilt, the hole in my heart widening and deepening upon the discovery that they blame themselves. I can do no more to comfort them. I simply must watch their lives continue on without me through the tumult of grief they're experiencing right now to hopefully better and brighter things. While I wish I could have one last conversation with them all, let them know how much I care for and appreciate each and every one of them, I know I am merely an invisible observer. As I consider all of the long hours shared together, the highs and the lows that are inextricably linked with solving gruesome murders, I pause. Just ahead of me, Hodgins is mounting a plaque in my memory for all to see. I smile and set off on my way.

 **Like Brennan, I have a soft spot for Vincent. I thought he was precious and I especially loved the fact that he's English too!**

 **(I've also just found out Ryan's hometown is less than an hour away from mine!**

 **How bloomin' cool is that?!)**

 **Review? :)**


	9. Oliver

**Quickly edited so any mistakes are all mine!**

Burnt orange leaves crunch beneath my hiking boots as I amble through the ever-beautiful Rock Creek Park. Most of the trees around me are bare; the gentle October breeze causing the remaining leaves to flutter to the ground. I pull my coat tighter around me, feeling the effects of the cool fall air. Ahead of me is Einstein, my sweet little pug who has trotted off to explore the surroundings. As I slowly follow him, the fresh air helps clear my mind, relaxing me after a stressful week at the lab. There had been a double homicide and, despite my superb expertise, leads had been few and far between. At first, just identifying the remains had been a challenge. They were so badly burnt and their skulls so badly smashed in, we'd struggled to find IDs. Even once we knew who the victims were, there didn't appear to be any links between them (different genders, different races, different ages, they weren't even from the same coast) making it even harder to narrow the suspect pool and bring the killer to justice.

Unsurprisingly, I was the one to piece the puzzle together. I discovered cause of death was a slash to the throat from a serrated blade. I'd made precise measurements to work out the length, width and spacing of the weapon that enabled us to find the exact knife, leading us to our killer. A deranged man by the name of Daley who'd bought the knife a block away from where the first attack took place and had made various threats on social media. According to the FBI, his wife had just left him for another man, taking his kids away from him and consequently pushing Daley over the edge. It was a crime of passion; he'd lashed out at the first people he saw and burnt them in his back garden in the hopes of obscuring evidence. Neighbours reportedly thought he was barbecuing. I shake my head as I continue along the trail. Burning flesh has a distinct aroma. How can these morons confuse that with a few beef burgers?

 _Honestly_.

Anyway, it's over now and I'm free to enjoy my weekend in whatever way I please, which usually involves hiking in the morning then going home to play video games versus Hodgins.

Einstein loves these hikes almost as much as I do. Since my apartment doesn't really have any outdoor space - although there is a small park two minutes down the road - our weekend walks are extra special.

Speaking of, as I round a corner, my dog is no longer anywhere to be seen. A wave of fear rolls over me. He's the only close connection I have with another living being and I couldn't bare to lose him. I pick up the pace, sticking my pinkies in my mouth and whistling.

Einstein doesn't come running.

I search frantically for five minutes, looking in bushes, calling his name, even getting on all fours to help myself get in his mindset. The latter earns me a lot of weird looks and knitted brows from other hikers who pass. I don't care about them though; I only care about Einstein.

Suddenly I see a small girl crouched in the middle of the track, in front of my precious baby. Everything turns red, a fiery mist descending upon the scene before me.

That's _my_ dog, not yours.

I march towards them, unbeknownst to her. The thief doesn't even pay attention to me until I snatch Einstein back into my arms and cuddle him tightly.

"It's OK, Einstein. I'm here now," I murmur, pressing a kiss to his crown. My eyes scan his body as I verify that he's all right, then they dart upwards to the small child. "You don't steal people's dogs, you know. Have your incompetent parents never disciplined you?"

Next thing I know, my worst nightmare comes true. The kid starts to cry. And I'm not talking crocodile tears, she is full on sobbing, her cheeks red and blotchy as the salty water streams down her face.

I'm not equipped to deal with this. While I _am_ a polymath and intellectually superior to everybody else in the country, children - especially crying children - are not my forte. I don't know whether to comfort her or say something or leave her to it, so I remain frozen, paralysed on the spot.

Before I can react in any way, I hear pounding footsteps behind me and a familiar voice shouting "Christine!" over and over.

My blood runs cold as Agent Booth rushes past me and engulfs the sobbing girl in a tight embrace.

 _How had I not realised she was Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth's daughter?_

I curse inwardly as my boss joins the party, worry written over her face as she parks their son's stroller beside her family and places a comforting hand on her little girl's back. Just as I'm wondering whether Einstein and I can make a break for it, the three of them turn to face me and I instantly realise I'm dead meat.

Agent Booth has never been fond of me. Our first meeting involved him aiming his gun at me, my superior intelligence and self-confidence clearly unnerves him and I know that accusing his daughter of cheating by changing her report card did not help our already tense relationship. But right now, with his jaw tight and his stare icy, he looks ready to fire a bullet through my brain.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I'm not ready to die - I haven't surpassed Dr. Brennan yet!

"Dr. Wells, what are you doing here?"

"Hiking," I reply, my voice strangled.

Booth's fierce eyes never leave mine. "You want to explain why my daughter is so distraught or do I need to rough you up a little first?"

I don't miss the way he cracks his knuckles and flexes his muscles, prepared to snap me in half. I decide taking the first option would be in my best interest. "Einstein ran off and when I eventually found him with your daughter, I rightfully told her off."

"Who's Einstein?" Dr. Brennan questions, furrowing her brow.

"My dog."

"You named your dog _Einstein_?"

"It's a fitting name for a pet with an owner as intelligent as myself," I say defensively.

"You can't be that intelligent if you think you have the right to tell off somebody else's child," Agent Booth argues.

"Did she do anything wrong?"

I glance at their daughter, her face buried in her father's broad shoulder, her mother drawing soothing circular patterns on her back. I have to confess that she looks sweet, innocent. "She was just petting him."

If anything, Booth becomes fiercer, his protective hold on his little girl tightening. "She did nothing wrong and you've made her cry like this?!"

I feel a shocking stab of guilt. "Yes."

"Unbelievable," Booth scoffs.

"In my defence, I didn't recognise her."

"So you thought you should chastise a stranger? The hell's wrong with you, Wells?"

I watch on helplessly as Agent Booth storms off to sit on a nearby bench. Dr. Brennan stays fixed in the same position, but her eyes swivel to me, her disappointment clear to see. She looks less like she wants to kill me than her husband, however, I don't doubt her ability to beat me to the ground for hurting her daughter.

"I'm so so-."

"Save it," she says, her tone low, protective. "You're an excellent scientist, Dr. Wells, and you have potential to have a great career. But that's all it is: _potential_. We've all attempted to improve your interpersonal skills and yet time and time again you let us down. I've given you so many chances because you're intelligent but, believe me, if you hurt my family one more time, your internship will be terminated with immediate effect. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand," I reply, certain that isn't just an empty threat. She really means it.

"Good. Christine loves animals and has been hankering after a family pet for months now. She was merely taking care of a lost animal. She didn't hurt him; she would never."

"I guess I was just worried he'd gone forever and saw red..."

She holds up her palm dismissively. "I don't care what your reasons were, all I care about is that my daughter is upset. Now, if you'll excuse me."

She shoves me out of her way and releases the brakes on their son's stroller, pushing him towards the rest of their family.

I realise what I must do.

Einstein still in my arms, I follow Dr. Brennan to the bench and stand in front of their daughter. I see Agent Booth roll his eyes at me but I steadfastly ignore him. I may not be the be the best people person in the world, however I know this is the right thing to do.

"Do you want to hold him?" I ask Christine.

Her eyes bug in surprise. " _Really_?"

"Absolutely. Do you want to?"

She nods, her whole face lighting up with glee as all traces of sadness fade away. Normally I don't like kids, yet even I have to admit her broad grin that shows off all her missing teeth _is_ pretty adorable.

I hand Einstein over to her and she immediately snuggles him lovingly.

"He's cute, isn't he, Christine?" Agent Booth murmurs softly, scratching the backs of Einstein's ears.

" _Very_ cute," she confirms, giggling as his tongue laps at her palm.

I glance at a smiling Dr. Brennan. She catches my eyes and mouths, "thank you."

I shrug casually. It's nothing because look how happy I've made their daughter. It feels nice to be responsible for that rather than being the one who pisses everybody else off all the time. I decide I need to finally make good on that bucket list Angela gave to me before Booth and Brennan's wedding and stop being such a douche. I know I have a long way to go to rectify my past mistakes and that acknowledging this is only the first small step, but I'm a highly motivated individual - one of the thousands of reasons I'm good at my job - and I truly believe I can change for the better.

 **If you read this, please, please leave a review. I need the Validation™.**


	10. Colin

**Is it just me who didn't know Fisher's real name is Colin or am I being a moron? I literally can't remember them ever saying it on the show!**

I wait outside the theatre, my leg bouncing anxiously as the time ticks closer to when we can go in and watch the latest Star Trek movie. I can't wait for this one - it's going to be awesome.

There are not many things in this terrible, tragedy-filled world that make me happy, but Star Trek is definitely one of them.

Just as I'm deep in thought about the plot of this latest spacey sequel, a wheelchair pulls in front of me.

Now I'm not a bad person - well, not _that_ bad of a person - but there's only two people queuing in front of me and about fifty to sixty extending behind me. I've been waiting here for hours to get this position and he just thinks he can jump the line because of his injury?

Not in my world.

I march towards him, my big leather boots pounding the sidewalk. While I obviously understand that he's had a serious accident, that doesn't give him the right to be a total douche. I tap him firmly on his shoulder, my eyes widening in surprise when I meet my nemesis.

The curly mop of dark hair, ocean blue eyes and checked shirt and leather jacket combo are very familiar to me.

" _Hodgins_?"

" _Fisher_?"

"W-what happened, man?" I splutter, in total shock. I haven't seen my co-workers from the Jeffersonian for some time thanks to my new presidential appointment and I had _not_ known about this.

"Oh, the chair?" He feigns ignorance, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just got caught up in an explosion, suffered a epidural haemotoma, paralysing me."

The world really is an awful place, I think sullenly. You don't ever expect your friends to go through such trauma. For a long time, I'm lost for words, unable to form a sentence that makes sense. I can't believe this.

"Me either," Hodgins grumbles and I realise I must have said it aloud. "It's been a tough old few months."

"I bet," I mutter, shaking my head. "How're you handling it?"

"Not great. Turns out being paralysed is pretty shit, Fisher."

I purse my lips. "Right. Of course."

"Add on top of that a wife who is constantly watching over me like I'm a goddamn _baby_. I'm not a baby, Angela! I can take care of myself."

I take it they're not dealing with the situation well, then. I feel bad. I've always had a soft spot for the couple, Hodgins in particular, and I've silently been rooting for them for a long time.

I shouldn't really be surprised by their relationship woes. It's common knowledge that most marriages end in divorce these days. It's a wonder people still _bother_. However, I still find it rather sad. They're a sweet family. They don't deserve this.

"She's worried because she loves you," I say in Angela's defence. "She's probably trying her best."

"Yeah, well, it's harder for me... I'm the one who can't walk!"

"I'm so sorry, Hodgins. This world is a cold and cruel place."

He lets out a self-depreciating chuckle. "You can say that again."

"You've finally come round to my way of thinking. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, I just wish it didn't involve me being stuck in this damn thing," he quips. "Anyway, what did you want?"

Taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation, I flounder, unsure of what the hell he's talking about.

"You tapped me on the shoulder before... You clearly wanted something..."

"Oh, right. Um- yeah." My face turns as red as a tomato as I work out what I should say. When I'd planned to yell at him before for jumping the queue he'd just been a man in a wheelchair, but now he's Hodgins. A paralysed Hodgins. I can't complain now. "It was nothing."

"Are you sure?" He knits his brow. "Didn't seem like nothing."

I sigh, realising that the so-called King of the Lab will not give in. "Fine, but just - don't hate me. I didn't know it was you and... I came over here because, well... I was pissed you pushed in front of me in the queue."

I'm expecting an outburst of anger. Hodgins can have a temper at the best of times and his paralysis only seems to have made him more volatile. However, contrary to my expectations, the entomologist actually starts _laughing_.

"What's so funny?"

" _You_ ," he says breaking off into bursts of laughter. "You thought you could intimidate me into moving to the back of the line. It's hilarious."

"Hey! I can be intimidating!" I cry.

"Oh yeah, Fisher, you're terrifying." He punctuates his sentence with a roll of his eyes and I feel like punching him, wheelchair or not. He sobers, shooting a bright smile in my direction. "Why don't you just join me at the front?"

I hadn't expected that, either. "Huh?"

"We're friends, right? And I'm at the front of the queue - join me."

"Oh, um, all right."

Aware that I'm becoming the thing that initially angered me, I shift myself in front of the other two in the line, wearing Trek-themed t-shirts. I don't dare look at them, not wanting to face the wrath of the nerds.

Hodgins and I continue catching up for the next hour and a half as we wait to be let in for the movie. I find out Booth and Brennan have had another baby, there's another Jeffersonian romance blossoming (Jessica Warren and James Aubrey) much to my disdain and Cam and Arastoo are getting married. More than ever I feel the intense weight of loneliness crushing down of me as it feels like everybody else is in a serious relationship, while I continue my one-night stand lifestyle. As my life hurtles its way towards death, I'm wondering whether the ephemeral feeling of pleasure after sex is substitute enough for having a woman in my life who I love and loves me back. Life is, after all, extremely short.

My considerations are interrupted my the theatre doors opening, excited gasps emanating from the fans. Hodgins pushes his wheels forward faster than I've ever seen go and I follow speedily behind, forgetting about everything other than my favourite movie franchise.

 _I can't wait._

 **Review? :)**


	11. Wendell

"Want another beer?"

I glance over at Booth, leaning forward on the cream couch in the orange jersey of his beloved Flyers, and nod my acceptance. I swig the last drops of my current bottle and pass it over to him.

His hands either side of his knees, he pushes himself off the seat with a grunt of exertion. "Ugh, I'm getting old."

I snigger at him. "Not gonna argue with you there, pal."

"All right," he says, pointing his finger at me as he ambles over to his fridge, opens it and pulls out two bottles Bud. Removing both caps, he returns to the couch, his hand outstretched and I easily accept the beer from him.

"Thanks, Booth."

"You're welcome," he replies, collapsing back into the cushions. Silence stretches out between us as we re-engross ourselves in the game. We're in the third quarter and the Flyers have a two-point lead, putting Booth in a very good mood. The silence is shattered by shouts as the Flyers launch another attack, Booth jumping from the couch. The puck is fired into the net and Booth pumps his fist excitedly. 3-0.

Just then the front door opens and Christine runs into the living area in seconds. She dives into Booth's now-open arms, identical grins on their faces.

Brennan follows moments later, a weary smile on her face as she greets her husband with a kiss and he steals the baby from her hip.

"Hi, buddy," he coos, shifting Christine and Hank so he can comfortably hold them both. Once his kids are settled, his eyes meet Brennan's and I notice how they soften just for his wife. "You OK there, Bones?"

"I'm exhausted," she sighs, sitting herself beside me. "The meeting with my publisher went on much longer than anticipated and the traffic was awful, meaning I was really late picking the kids up from Dad's and he missed his bowling game."

"I take it he's pissed at you," I say as she nods, adding a small roll of her eyes.

"It's not even my fault!" She picks up Booth's beer and takes a large chug. "God forbid his grandchildren keep him from bowling."

My eyes widen in surprise. The game is almost done, the Flyers' victory almost guaranteed and - since I imagine this is going to turn into a very personal rant about Dr. Brennan's father - I figure this is probably my cue to go home. Quickly finishing my beer, I tell Booth that I should probably be on my way. Andie will be back from her shift at the hospital in less than an hour and I agreed to make her a late dinner.

"No, you can't go yet! The game's still on!" He refuses my decision and plops baby Hank on my lap. "Now you have to stay."

I glare at him, but am almost immediately distracted by their adorable son. He really is the sweetest with his light, fluffy hair, Booth's eyes and his mother's smile. Plus, the tiny converse he's wearing are so cool I wish _I_ had some. He has the best personality too. I've been around kids quite a bit - obviously Christine and Michael Vincent and my brother has four children - but Hank has more personality than any of the others did at his age. He's just so happy and funny and cute. He doesn't ever seem to get shy around people, unlike my nieces and nephews which is great. And I can't wait until he's older because Booth and I have already decided that we'll both help teach him to play hockey. If he's as good as his dad and manages to remain injury-free, I reckon we could have the next Gretzky on our hands.

He also appears to be extremely perceptive as he reaches out for Brennan's hand in an attempt to comfort her.

She takes it easily and he giggles, pulling her fingers into his mouth and slobbering all over her.

"Thank you, Hank," she murmurs playfully, "I really appreciate you dribbling on me."

I laugh with him until I notice his expression twitches, an ominous smell invading my nostrils. Realisation dawning, I nearly drop the kid to the floor.

"Hank just cra-. I mean, pooed," I inform his parents, scrunching my face up in disgust. It is not my responsibility to change his diaper. I'll hold him and play with him and do anything other than that dreaded job. No. _Gross_.

"Can you handle it, Wendell?"

" _What_?" My eyes bug, leaving Hank's face for Booth, now sitting cross-legged on the floor with Christine while she empties her backpack and enthusiastically shows off every single picture she's drawn while at her grandfathers. "No way. He's not my son."

"I'm kinda busy here," he pleads, glancing over his shoulder to appeal to his wife. "Can you do it, Bones?"

"I'm exhausted. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's _your_ turn."

He groans, ignoring Christine's latest colourful depiction of the tree house in their back garden. "Wendell?"

I curse inwardly. This is my worst nightmare. Yes, I handle dead bodies for a living. And yes, I've probably seen way worse things than a dirty diaper, but still. Just thinking about it makes me want to barf. Both Booth and Brennan are giving me the sad eyes and it hits me like a ton of bricks that I'm not gonna get away with this. "I am never coming to your house again," I threaten lowly, shooting daggers at Booth as I carry the little dude towards his nursery.

I lay him out on his changing table, his limbs squirming as he tries his damnedest to make this as hard as possible for a diaper changing newbie like myself.

"All right, Hank, let's do this..."

I pull off his tiny jeans and pop open his onesie, granting me access to his diaper. I groan inwardly as I open it up, avoiding looking at it as much as I can.

"What are your mommy and daddy feeding you, huh, Hank? This smells awful." Crinkling my nose, I remove his diaper and clean him with the organic baby wipes Brennan insists upon using. I then pick up a fresh diaper - a cute drawing of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on the front - and pause.

 _How the hell do you put this thing on?!_

I can name every bone in the human body. I can piece together broken skulls. I can find the tiniest of nicks to the skeleton to reveal cause of death. But I can't figure out for the life of me how to get the diaper in my hands onto the baby in front of me.

I examine the box and find no instructions as to how to put them on, nothing. I curse inwardly, knowing Booth did this to me on purpose and is probably back in the living room pissing his pants laughing.

I have to do this. I have to prove him wrong.

I open out the diaper and place it beneath Hank. I fold the material experimentally and on my fifth try the damn thing finally seems to fit together neatly like it does in the picture on the box. I re-do the poppers on his onesie and put his jeans back on, lifting him into my arms.

"We did it, buddy!" I say excitedly, holding my hand out for a high five.

Confused, he headbutts my palm instead and I chuckle in response.

"Close enough."

As I turn around, my eyes widen, finding Booth, Brennan and Christine all attempting to stifle laughter, the former holding up his phone in my direction. The red light lets me know he's recording and if his two children weren't here, I would totally slug him.

"YouTube is gonna _loooovveee_ this one," he says teasingly, a broad grin on his face.

I advance on him, but he matches my forward steps with backward ones of his own. He holds the phone high out of my reach, swapping it between hands to prevent me snatching it from him.

"I hate you."

"Nah, you don't," he chuckles, taking his son from my arms. "Text Andie and tell her to get over here. You can have dinner with us."

"You sure?"

"Of course, Mr Bray. You're basically family," Dr. Brennan assures me with a warm, welcoming smile.

"OK, that sounds great. But if you upload that video, Booth, I swear I _will_ kill you."

 **One more intern to go...**

 **Review?**


	12. Zack

**Continues straight after the s11 finale.**

 **For the record, I don't think Zack is going to turn out to be the killer. I feel like they're going to switch it up so he's a hero in some way, but because I think he's a douche and an accessory to murder, in my story he will be the villain. Sorry to any Zack fans out there.**

 _"Dr. Brennan, it is good to see you again. You and I, we have so much to talk about."_

As I stare at my former mentor, her hair mussed from sleep, but still beautiful as she ever was, I can't help but notice the fear in her wide-eyed expression.

"There's no need to be afraid, Dr. Brennan," I tell her reassuringly, walking closer and placing my hand over hers. She recoils at my touch where she would have once hugged me or told me how proud she was. The difference is like a sucker-punch to the gut, leaving me yearning for the times where we'd work in amicable silence until the early hours of the morning. All that has changed now. She's changed. I've most certainly changed. But still, it hurts. "It's only me."

Her eyes scan our surroundings, her action impeded by the gloomy darkness. "Where are we?" She questions, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

"It's of no importance to you. All that matters is that we're here together, you and I. Reunited at last."

Again, I reach out for her and again, she avoids me. "Tell me where we are, Dr. Addy."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. We have other things to discuss." I level her with an icy stare. "Are you going to cooperate or do I need to restrain you?"

She looks like she's considering making a run for it, knowing her considerable speed would have me beat. Her superior intelligence wins over though and she stays put. _Good choice_ , I think. _I really don't want to have to use the handgun hiding beneath my shirt, but if needs must..._

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You," is my simple reply. "I've missed you so much."

She shifts uncomfortably under my intense gaze, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"You still work at the Jeffersonian."

"Yes, I do," she responds. "I am the best forensic anthropologist the world has to offer. It would be ridiculous for the Jeffersonian to not want my considerable skills and attributes."

"You're still partners with Agent Booth," I say, leading into my main point slowly and carefully. I don't want to spook her more than she already is and have to dissarm her.

"Yes." 

My eyes flick to the ring just visible under the dim light. Anger bubbles under my skin. "You married him."

"That's right."

"I wasn't invited to the wedding. You never told me."

Her eyes meet mine now, but they're almost unrecognisable. The love and kindness which used to be there is gone and only anger remains. "You were institutionalised for assisting a cannibalistic serial killer, Dr. Addy."

"I didn't do anything wrong," I argue, searching her face for any glimpse of hope. I don't find any. "I was following the master's orders, that's all."

"You betrayed me," she says, her voice wavering. "You betrayed all of us."

"I thought you'd be _proud_ of me."

"Well, then you were mistaken, Dr. Addy."

My eyes shut, my skin burning hot as I try to control the searing rage inside of me. I did this for her. I did all of this for her and she couldn't care _less_. "You have children," I state, reopening my eyes. I see her jaw tense, a fiery protectiveness overwhelming her. "You're a mother now."

"And you're the one who's been following me," she counters.

"Not me. A friend from the inside. He's been watching you for me and feeding the information back during my monthly visitation sessions - which you've never attended, can I add. So much of a mentor, you are."

"I couldn't see you in there, Zack," she replies hesitantly, shaking her head. "I had to picture you as the intern you once were in order to stay sane, not the apprentice you'd become."

Silence engulfs the dark, cold room. Suddenly aware of the draft, she shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. Although it could equally be a defensive manoeuvre as she fights to protect herself from her own emotions and from me.

"Why did you take me?"

I've rationalised my decision in my head over and over as I watched her fitful sleep, convincing myself I'd done the right thing. However, for some reason, putting it into words... It doesn't quite sound as logical.

"You were getting close to solving the murders, I couldn't have that. You and I are the only ones brilliant enough. I knew that if I could just stop you, the rest of the team's efforts would come grinding to a holt. They can't link me to the crime without you," I explain.

Horror crosses her face. " _You_ killed those people?"

"I did and it felt _good_."

"Are-are you going to kill me?" She stammers.

I laugh incredulously, advancing upon her once more. I brush my gloved hand through her dark hair, amusement twinkling in my eyes. "Don't be silly, Dr. Brennan. I could never do that to you."

"Then what are you going to do to me?"

"I don't know yet. Perhaps nothing," I muse, my fingers still entangled in her hair. "Perhaps I'll just keep you here forever. With me. Where you belong."

"I belong with my husband and children," she spits, shoving my hand away.

The burns sting fresh, causing me to wince in pain.

Her angry demeanour vanishes, replaced with worry. " _Zack_! Are you OK?"

"I'll be fine," I reassure her with a smile. She still cares about me. _I knew it!_ Now to reel her in further. "Would you like to know why I killed those people?"

Her softness fades away as she morphs into a factual, unemotional version of herself. "Our behavioural analyst posits that the killer was targeting pillars of societies - maternal figures - because they lack a mother in their own life and they're searching for that missing piece of the puzzle. And then some other psychobabble that she concocted on the spot."

"You still don't believe in psychology. Me either. It's a-."

"Pseudo-science," we say at the same time.

"Yes," she says, biting her lip. "However, in this circumstance I think the psychology is correct. I heard your mother died recently and your family haven't been to see you since you were admitted."

I swallow, Dr. Brennan's words forcing some difficult memories to rise to the surface.

"I also believe it's because of me."

" _You_?"

"Yes. I was an important person in your life, Zack, almost a mother to you. So when your biological mother died, you needed a replacement - hence, the victims you selected. Then, when you discovered I am now married with children of my own, you shifted your focus to _me_."

"You never theorise without physical evidence," I point out, my tone accusing. _Even though you've hit the nail on the head_ , I think bitterly.

"I normally don't. I guess Booth's instinctive ways have rubbed off on me."

"Perhaps." Wanting to divert the conversation away from _him_ and back to _me_ as quickly as possible, I tell her that I like how well she can read me. "You must really love me, Dr. Brennan."

She furrows her brow. "No, I don't love you. I'm married."

"You can love more than one person."

She shakes her head frantically as I approach her again, my leather-clad hand cupping her mandible, my thumb lightly brushing her cheek. "I don't love you, Dr. Addy. In fact, I haven't thought about you for a long time."

Hurt pounds through me, my throat constricting. My next words come out strangled. "You don't mean that."

"I do," she disagrees, her tone hard, unfeeling to match the glare she's shooting me.

I feel the cool barrel pressing against my skin as I lean closer to my former mentor, a reminder of its presence. My mouth is just centimetres from hers. My lip turns up in a snarl. "You might want to consider your decisions more carefully here, Dr. Brennan. I'm no longer your pathetic, weak assistant you'd always choose to play the victim. I'm in charge here. I have all the power. And the weapon."

Her breathing shortens and I smirk. My threat was effective. Good. Testing my luck, I press my chapped lips to hers, revelling in the feeling I've wanted for so many years. A state of bliss overwhelms me. This feels so right. As I attempt to deepen the kiss, slip my tongue into her mouth, I'm yanked away, thrown to the sofa and handcuffed in seconds.

"Don't you dare try that again," she says lowly, reversing our roles so she's the one standing above me.

I cower under her stare. "You're making a mistake here, Dr. Brennan."

"Booth gave me a pair of his handcuffs just in case the killer came after me and he wasn't around. You should have remembered I am very proficient in martial arts, Dr. Addy."

"I remember. I'm impressed," I whisper.

"I am a very impressive woman. Now we'll wait here until my husband and his team inevitably show up. Then you'll be taken away - and I'll ensure you go to prison this time around."

"How do you know Agent Booth will come?" I question. I'd been very precise in what evidence I'd left behind. With his IQ significantly beneath my own, I am confident the meagre clues will not lead him to our location.

"He will," she says in response, a small smile growing on her face. "I have faith that he will come."

 **And that's all of them! I can now focus on the sequels to James Aubrey and His Babysitting Adventure and another multi-chap case fic I've been working on.**

 **If you'd leave one last review, I'd be very, very happy. :)**


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